Post by Jayceon Williams on Jan 23, 2008 17:03:31 GMT -5
"What it is my nyukkaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas?!"
...Oh. You know the deal already. It's that nyukka. My homie and yours. Jin mothafuggin' Remmy. Back in his home town of St. Louis, Missouri. The St. Louie Loonie mothafugga'. He appears to be sitting on the front porch of some house. Probably his own? Back home again. Why not go home and see the family? Smirking. He stands up from the porch. Dressed in a white Dickies outfit. White bandana wrapped around his forehead. His black and white sneakers on his feet. In his hands though, he had a stack of papers. Business? Let's find out.
"YEAH BOY! It's ya nyukka Jin Remmy bitches. And I'm home! St. Louis, Missouri bitches! My house nyukkas! I'm on home base bitches. You guys are on my turf. You know what I'm talking about. Absolution bitches. Seems like the bosses are finally doing something right. They put me in the Continental Title tournament. Finally some kind of justice for all the bullshit they let go down with my matches lately. Hell, that bastard Jasper Jenkins tried to pull a fast one on me by throwing the ref around. Did the ref do shit? Fuck no. But did Jasper win? Fuck no. That's right. Little bitch talked all that shit and go his ass laid down. All I needed to do was knee that little fucker in the face. He was out like a light. But that's done with. Now onto the pay per view. Absolution. Got me in some sort of tournament in order to see who gets the belt. And you know what?"
He holds up the papers.
"I know who. Would you like to find out...?"
He whips out the first picture from his pile. And it is of....
"Oh. Looks. It's the Incredible Hulk in our little tournament. Bryan Columbain. Steroid jackass. Never met the dude. But judging from his pictures I've seen? Dude don't look too bright. Dude looks like he's constipated or something. Just look at the dude. Am I right or am I right? Dude don't look like he all there. All brawn. No brain. Tough? Maybe. But intelligent enough to fuck with the nyukka Remmy? Most likely...
.....
....
...
..
.
.
..
...
....
....NOT!"
He switches the picture out for the next one that was up. And the next picture was of....
"Who the hell is Chris Calloway? Nyukka looks like a straight up pretty boy type of nyukka. Like one of those "I broke a nail" kind of nyukkas. Or some kind of male stripper. Either way. This dude looks like he don't even belong in a wrestling ring. He really don't. I ain't ever met this dude before but uh... I'm not expecting much from him. He definitely looks like a pretty soft ass dude. If I meet this fool, probably just gonna hit his ass with the one-hitter quitter and call it a day with him."
He smirks as he sees the next picture. Shaking his head. He can't help but laugh. The bosses must not know what they're doing or something. Oh well. He lifts it up to the camera.
"Ugh... They must really want me to hurt this bastard. I don't know what the hell these wimmenz are thinking when they put his ass into the mix. Anthony Ramirez? Seriously... Are you kidding me? You are fuggin' kidding me? You let his ass into the mix? I soooooooo hope he wins his match. I so fuggin' hope he makes it to the next round. Cause if I meet his ass in the ring? It's over for him. It's over. Might as well call an ambulance to put on stand by. Cause if I meet him in the ring? He's gonna be in a whole world of hurt. Believe it."
Picture switch again. The next one up in the Continental tournament....
"Alright. Since when did we start letting college students into the business? His name's Jack McArthur and well... Looking at this fool's picture... Dude's obviously had a few too many in him. What the hell possesses a man to smash a can into his forehead? I don't know. But this dude looks like he'll be an easy squash. No biggie here. Let's just hope he's not wasted when he gets to the ring. Kay?"
Here's the next picture. Switch. And here we have....
"Another lame bastard. Picking on the new guys from what I hear around the way. What a punk. Aren't you supposed to be some uber-bad ass? Why you fuggin' with the small fries? You like fuggin' with new dudes? Let's see how much of a bad ass you really are when it comes to facing me. That's even if you make it that far. Let's hope you don't. Cause I don't wanna have to smack another lame bastard out his shoes. But we'll have to see then... Won't we?"
Switches the picture out again. This time it's...
"We have... Avenger. Some Crow looking mothafugga' with the unoriginal cheap Halloween face paint he saved from last year. Wow. A name like Avenger. Sounds like a superhero. And he jacks a superhero's face paint. Hmmm... Coincidence my friends? I think NOT. Loser.
He don't look so tough. Actually looks like he constipated himself too. Lame ass rip off. Gah... How many lame people does GCW gotta hire?"
He switches it for the final picture. His first opponent in the tournament. And this person is....
"Wow. So... um... when did they let loose the freak show into the company? Name's Blaze? Dude looks a little "blazed" if you ask me. Goddamn folks. You see this picture? Dude looks like he's tripping off some kind of drug. Shit. Maybe a little of that c-c-c-c-cocaine? Or maybe it's the magic shrooms? Ecstasy? Whatever the case may be. Dude... You look pretty fugged up and well... I'ma have to whoop that ass. You're my first opponent so... Get ready to get that ass stomped!"
He turns around to the side of the porch. There's a trash can sitting nearby. He crumples up the papers into a ball and tosses it in the trash. Just what he thinks of his opponents. He then turns his attention back to the camera.
"It don't matter which one of you I see in the ring. All you need to know is I'm coming for that ass. And if we meet? You better be ready to get some bitches. Cause I'm taking that belt. And I'm taking it home bitches. GET SOME! Holla!"
He turns around and starts heading up the steps towards the front door of the house. The camera starts fading to black as he walks inside. Was he ready for the pay per view? Hell yeah. Scared of any of his possible opponents? Pfft. As if. He planned on taking that title home. And right here in his hometown too.
...Oh. You know the deal already. It's that nyukka. My homie and yours. Jin mothafuggin' Remmy. Back in his home town of St. Louis, Missouri. The St. Louie Loonie mothafugga'. He appears to be sitting on the front porch of some house. Probably his own? Back home again. Why not go home and see the family? Smirking. He stands up from the porch. Dressed in a white Dickies outfit. White bandana wrapped around his forehead. His black and white sneakers on his feet. In his hands though, he had a stack of papers. Business? Let's find out.
"YEAH BOY! It's ya nyukka Jin Remmy bitches. And I'm home! St. Louis, Missouri bitches! My house nyukkas! I'm on home base bitches. You guys are on my turf. You know what I'm talking about. Absolution bitches. Seems like the bosses are finally doing something right. They put me in the Continental Title tournament. Finally some kind of justice for all the bullshit they let go down with my matches lately. Hell, that bastard Jasper Jenkins tried to pull a fast one on me by throwing the ref around. Did the ref do shit? Fuck no. But did Jasper win? Fuck no. That's right. Little bitch talked all that shit and go his ass laid down. All I needed to do was knee that little fucker in the face. He was out like a light. But that's done with. Now onto the pay per view. Absolution. Got me in some sort of tournament in order to see who gets the belt. And you know what?"
He holds up the papers.
"I know who. Would you like to find out...?"
He whips out the first picture from his pile. And it is of....
"Oh. Looks. It's the Incredible Hulk in our little tournament. Bryan Columbain. Steroid jackass. Never met the dude. But judging from his pictures I've seen? Dude don't look too bright. Dude looks like he's constipated or something. Just look at the dude. Am I right or am I right? Dude don't look like he all there. All brawn. No brain. Tough? Maybe. But intelligent enough to fuck with the nyukka Remmy? Most likely...
.....
....
...
..
.
.
..
...
....
....NOT!"
He switches the picture out for the next one that was up. And the next picture was of....
"Who the hell is Chris Calloway? Nyukka looks like a straight up pretty boy type of nyukka. Like one of those "I broke a nail" kind of nyukkas. Or some kind of male stripper. Either way. This dude looks like he don't even belong in a wrestling ring. He really don't. I ain't ever met this dude before but uh... I'm not expecting much from him. He definitely looks like a pretty soft ass dude. If I meet this fool, probably just gonna hit his ass with the one-hitter quitter and call it a day with him."
He smirks as he sees the next picture. Shaking his head. He can't help but laugh. The bosses must not know what they're doing or something. Oh well. He lifts it up to the camera.
"Ugh... They must really want me to hurt this bastard. I don't know what the hell these wimmenz are thinking when they put his ass into the mix. Anthony Ramirez? Seriously... Are you kidding me? You are fuggin' kidding me? You let his ass into the mix? I soooooooo hope he wins his match. I so fuggin' hope he makes it to the next round. Cause if I meet his ass in the ring? It's over for him. It's over. Might as well call an ambulance to put on stand by. Cause if I meet him in the ring? He's gonna be in a whole world of hurt. Believe it."
Picture switch again. The next one up in the Continental tournament....
"Alright. Since when did we start letting college students into the business? His name's Jack McArthur and well... Looking at this fool's picture... Dude's obviously had a few too many in him. What the hell possesses a man to smash a can into his forehead? I don't know. But this dude looks like he'll be an easy squash. No biggie here. Let's just hope he's not wasted when he gets to the ring. Kay?"
Here's the next picture. Switch. And here we have....
"Another lame bastard. Picking on the new guys from what I hear around the way. What a punk. Aren't you supposed to be some uber-bad ass? Why you fuggin' with the small fries? You like fuggin' with new dudes? Let's see how much of a bad ass you really are when it comes to facing me. That's even if you make it that far. Let's hope you don't. Cause I don't wanna have to smack another lame bastard out his shoes. But we'll have to see then... Won't we?"
Switches the picture out again. This time it's...
"We have... Avenger. Some Crow looking mothafugga' with the unoriginal cheap Halloween face paint he saved from last year. Wow. A name like Avenger. Sounds like a superhero. And he jacks a superhero's face paint. Hmmm... Coincidence my friends? I think NOT. Loser.
He don't look so tough. Actually looks like he constipated himself too. Lame ass rip off. Gah... How many lame people does GCW gotta hire?"He switches it for the final picture. His first opponent in the tournament. And this person is....
"Wow. So... um... when did they let loose the freak show into the company? Name's Blaze? Dude looks a little "blazed" if you ask me. Goddamn folks. You see this picture? Dude looks like he's tripping off some kind of drug. Shit. Maybe a little of that c-c-c-c-cocaine? Or maybe it's the magic shrooms? Ecstasy? Whatever the case may be. Dude... You look pretty fugged up and well... I'ma have to whoop that ass. You're my first opponent so... Get ready to get that ass stomped!"
He turns around to the side of the porch. There's a trash can sitting nearby. He crumples up the papers into a ball and tosses it in the trash. Just what he thinks of his opponents. He then turns his attention back to the camera.
"It don't matter which one of you I see in the ring. All you need to know is I'm coming for that ass. And if we meet? You better be ready to get some bitches. Cause I'm taking that belt. And I'm taking it home bitches. GET SOME! Holla!"
He turns around and starts heading up the steps towards the front door of the house. The camera starts fading to black as he walks inside. Was he ready for the pay per view? Hell yeah. Scared of any of his possible opponents? Pfft. As if. He planned on taking that title home. And right here in his hometown too.